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In the heart of the Yorkshire Moors lies Haworth, a sleepy little village that was once home to three of the greatest writers in England. Little did Charlotte, Emily and Anne Bronte know, as they sat writing or busying themselves with daily tasks, that this parsonage and village was going to be forever impacted by their work. Nowadays, as you head towards their home, up the cobbled street and into the parsonage, the fact of this family's modest presence is hard to ignore. The main street of Haworth is a tourist's heaven, with gift shops dedicated to the authors and cafes and restaurants dedicated to the many tourists who make this pilgrimage.

Little did the Brontes realise that 250 years later tourists would still flock to the parsonage in Haworth, follow their well trod paths into the moors and search for clues as to what inspired these women, whose lives were so simple, to create stories and characters so complex. I wonder if Charlotte ever considered that tourists might wander round her house, peer at an old example of her dress, or at her original manuscripts, or that we would stare in wonderment at the very wardrobe described in detail in Jane Eyre. I doubt it; she was notoriously modest.